Can I have my peom corrected and tell me the things I missed please "Angel's Recital"

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Can I have my peom corrected and tell me the things I missed please "Angel's Recital"

Hello,

Can I have my peom corrected?!

Angel's Recital

Here, she was sitting aloneOn the cold old bridge stoneThat was the last time in whichMy eyes had been falling on this wenchShe was playing the same violin recitalWhen it blew, the wind unusualLeaves of roses are butterfliesAround this angel it fliesAngel in a lovely white gownA blonde long hair was of her ownYou can’t see it anymoreIt was just like a doveHad its flight upon a roofHolding the wheat grains, so never it lostNow it was gone with the windAnd no more recitals were now heardOnly that what I had mentioned and toldThe snow-whited angel was now soldTo heavens it changed its way and goneBut: still can see us and away it wavesYou can reach me but just feel a shameShe is watching and warning outdoorsShe is watching and warning“HERE I am, Cannibals” she saysAs nobody answers“HERE I am, Cannibals” she still saysAs nobody feels, even feelingsAs then we can’t seeThere was peace one dayThere was peaceIt had gone away leaving usTearing the threads of kindness between usThrowing us away behind it“I do not want to stay in here”“They are of no human creatures”“But they are cannibals, only cannibals they are”Those of no human features were now awaken upThey searched for the sound of recitalsThey searched for their peace angelBut lately they realized thatAnd knew about the bitter truthThat their angel had been lostBut: in reality it was gone . . . It was goneAnd to get this angel homeTo its cold old bridge stoneThey decided to be completely changedHelping others was their aimAnd with orphans they beganThey helped them everywhereCultivating happiness in their heartsDrawing smiles on their facesThey helped them everywhereThey were just like a father and a motherSister and brother . . . an aunt and an uncleThey helped with their educationTheir hygiene and sanitationAnd they are still tryingThinking and MusingIf this angel will returnBut: nobody knows the answerNobody knows the replyAs I think we all know the answerWe all know the replyIt will be coming back just like a doveTo have its flight upon the roofHolding the wheat grains, so never it lostHere, she was sitting aloneOn the cold old bridge stoneThat was the last time in whichMy eyes had been falling on this wench